Apparently nothing remained to try but the door. Running down the
steps, I looked it over. It was of solid oak planking, an inch thick,
and fastened at both top and bottom.

It was a hard thing to tackle, especially with no tools, and, after
surveying it, I went upstairs again to search for something that might
do as a pry.

I could see nothing but the empty nail keg, and I could discover no
use at first in this until the idea struck me of wedging it between
one of the lower steps and the door, and, by jumping upon it, forcing
the bottom bolt.

With some difficulty I placed the keg in position and brought down my
full weight upon it. The first time the bolt merely creaked, but the
second there was a snap, and the lower part of the door burst outward
several inches.

The bottom bolt had yielded, and now only the top one remained. But to
reach this was a difficult matter, as no purchase could be had against
it.

While considering the situation, I imagined I heard my jailer
returning, and my heart jumped into my throat. What if Booth should
see the damage I had done? I reckoned that things would go hard with
me if it became known that I had attempted to break jail. Judge
Penfold would surely give me the full penalty of the law.

But the approach of Booth was only imaginary, and, after a brief
interval of silence, I breathed freer.

I ascends the stairs once more to see if I could not find something
besides the keg to assist me. If only I had a plank or a beam, I might
use it as a battering-ram.

The thought of a plank led me to examine the floor, and, going over it
carefully, I soon came to a short board, one end of which was loose.
Raising it, I pulled with all my might, and the board came up.

I was astonished to see that it made an opening into the shop below. I
had imagined that the floor or ceiling was of double thickness.

This gave me a new idea. Why not escape through the floor? To pry up
another board would perhaps be easier than to force the door.

I tried the board next to the opening. The end was somewhat rotted,
and it came up with hardly an effort.

In another moment the opening would be large enough to allow the
passage of my body. Putting the first board under the edge of the
second, I bore down upon it.

As I did so I heard a noise that alarmed me greatly. It was the sound
of Booth returning, and the next instant the carpenter had opened the
outer door and entered.

In one hand he carried a tray containing my dinner. He crossed the
floor directly under me without looking up. Then his eyes caught the
shattered door and he gave a loud exclamation.

"By ginger! If that boy ain't gone and escaped!"

He set down the tray with a rattle and tried to pull the door open.
But the top bolt had become displaced, and it was several seconds
before it could be shot back.

Meanwhile I was not idle. As quietly as I could I tore up the second
board. The deed was done just as Booth stumbled over the keg on his
way up the stairs.

As my jailer appeared at the top, I let my body through the opening.
It was a tight squeeze, especially when accomplished in a hurry. I
landed in a heap on a pile of shavings.

"Stop! stop!" called out Booth. "Roger, don't you hear me?"

I certainly did hear him, but paid no attention to his words. My one
thought was to get away as quickly as possible.

"If you don't stop, I'll shoot you," went on Booth at the top of his
voice. "Don't you know breaking jail is a-- a felony?"

I did not know what kind of a crime it was. I had made up my mind to
escape, and intended to do so, even if such a deed constituted
manslaughter. I made a break for the door and passed out just as Booth
came tramping down the stairs.

I ran across the yard that separated the carpenter shop from the
house. As I did so, Mrs. Booth appeared at the back door. Upon seeing
me she held up her hands in horror.

"Mercy on us! Roger Strong! Where be you a-running to? 'Zekel! 'Zekel!
the prisoner's broke loose!"

"I know it, Mandy!" I heard Ezekiel Booth answer. "Dunno how he did
it, though. Stop, Roger, it's best now; jest you mark my word!"

I heard no more. Jumping the side fence, I ran through a bit of
orchard and across a stony lot until I reached the Pass River.

At this point this body of water was several hundred feet wide. The
bank sloped directly to the water's edge. Near at hand were several
private boat-houses, one belonging to Mr. Aaron Woodward, he having
built it to please Duncan.

At the end of the boat-house pier lay a skiff, the oars resting upon
the seats. I knew it was wrong to make use of the craft, but
"necessity knows no law," and my need was great.

Running down to the end of the pier, I dropped into the boat and
shoved off. As I did so, Duncan Woodward, accompanied by Pultzer, came
out of the boat-house.

"Hi, there, what are you doing in my boat?" he sang out. "What, Roger
Strong!" he continued as he came nearer.

"You must lend me the boat, Duncan," I returned. "I've got to cross
the river in a hurry."

"Not much! I thought you were in jail."

"Not just now," I replied. "You can get your boat on the other side."

"Hold up! You shan't have her. Come back!"

But I was already pulling out into the stream. He continued to shout
after me, and presently I saw the two joined by Booth, and all watched
me in dismay as I made for the opposite shore.

Reaching the bank, I beached the boat high up and then climbed to the
roadway that ran beside the stream. Trees and bushes were thick here,
and I had but little difficulty in hiding from the view of those
opposite.

For a moment I hesitated as to which way to proceed. A number of miles
down the stream lay Newville, of which I have already spoken. Probably
my pursuers would think I had gone in that direction. If so, they
would hasten to the bridge below, with the intention of cutting me
off.

I therefore started immediately on my way up the river road, resolved
to put as much ground as possible between myself and my pursuers. I
had no definite destination in view, but thought to gain some
hiding-place where I might rest secure and think things over.

It was now going on to two o'clock in the afternoon, and as I had not
had anything to eat since the noon previous, I began to feel decidedly
hungry. I felt in my pocket and discovered that I was the possessor of
sixty-five cents, and with this amount of cash I did not see any
reason for my remaining hungry any longer.

Presently I came to a small, white cottage, upon the front porch of
which was displayed the sign

                               BOARDING

Ascending the steps, I knocked at the door, and a comely, middle-aged
woman answered my summons.

"I see that you take boarders here," I said, "I am hungry, and several
miles from any restaurant. Can you furnish me with dinner?"

She looked me over rather sharply before replying. Then I realize for
the first time that my appearance was not of the best. My clothes were
considerably the worse for having rolled over and over in the old tool
house, and in escaping from my prison I had made several rents in my
coat.

"I will pay you whatever you charge," I added hastily, "and I would
like to wash and brush up, too; I have had a tumble," which was
literally true.

"I can let you have dinner for twenty-five cent," she said finally. "I
won't charge you anything for cleaning up," she added, with something
like a smile. "Will you mind paying in advance?"

"No, ma'am," and I handed over the money. "I suppose I won't have to
wait very long."

"Oh, no, the regular boarders have just finished. You can sit right
down."

"If you don't mind, I'll take a wash first."

The woman led the way to an ante-room, in which were placed a bowl of
water, towel, and soap, as well as a dust brush. It did not take me
long to fix myself up, and then I flattered myself I did not present
an unbecoming appearance.

The dinner that the woman served was not as good as that which my
sister Kate helped to prepare at the Widow Canby's, but it was
wholesome food, and my sharpened appetite made it disappear rapidly.

As I ate I reflected upon my situation. For the life of me I did not
know what to do next. I longed to see my sister and tell her that I
was safe. This done, I intended to devote my time to hunting up the
man who I firmly believed held my father's reputation in his hand. I
was sure I would discover him sooner or later, and this accomplished,
I would not let him out of my sight until he had confessed his secret.
I wondered if Kate had succeeded in finding that precious statement I
had lost. Heartily did I reproach myself for not having taken better
care of it.

Having satisfied myself upon the substantial things set before me, I
finished my meal with a small cut of apple pie.

As I was swallowing the last mouthful I glanced out of the window up
the road, and gave a cry of surprise. And no wonder, for coming toward
the house was Mr. Aaron Woodward, and beside him walked John Stumpy!

  CHAPTER XIII

 AN INTERESTING CONVERSATION

I could hardly believe the evidence of my senses when I saw Mr. Aaron
Woodward coming up the road with John Stumpy beside him. It would have
astonished me to have seen the merchant alone, but to see him in
company with the very man I was looking for was more than I had
thought possible.

Yet I reflected that the tramp-- or whatever the man was-- had evinced
a determination to secure an interview with Mr. Woodward before
quitting Darbyville. There was important business to be transacted
between them. Mr. John Stumpy intended to have his say, whatever that
might mean.

What was to be done? It would never do for me to be seen. Nothing
short of arrest would follow. I must get out of the way as quickly as
possible.

During the time I had been eating, the sky had become overcast as if a
shower was imminent. Taking advantage of this fact I rose quickly and
reached for my hat.

"Guess we're going to have a thunder shower," I remarked. "Hope it
holds off. I don't want to get wet."

"Then you'll have to hurry," rejoined the woman as she looked out of
the door. "Looks as if it would be here in less than quarter of an
hour."

"Then I'm off. Good day."

"Good day. Come again."

I slipped out of the door, and passing behind a hedge, made my way to
the road. As I did so, Mr. Woodward and Stumpy turned from the highway
and walked directly up the gravel path that led to the house!

I was dumfounded by this movement. What did they mean by going to the
very place I had just vacated? Was it possible they had seen me?

I earnestly hoped not; for if so, it would spoil a little plan that
had just come to me, which was to follow them, see what they were up
to, and, if possible, overhear whatever might be said.

I was soon convinced that neither of the men was aware of my presence.
They were talking earnestly and stepped up on the porch just as
ordinary visitors would have done. In a moment the woman let them in
and the door closed behind them.

My curiosity was aroused to its highest pitch, and at the risk of
being discovered by any one who might chance to be passing by I walked
cautiously back along the hedge until I reached a clump of rose bushes
that grew directly under one of the dining-room windows.

The window was open, and by a little manoeuvring I easily managed to
see and hear what was going on within.

"You came for the rent, I suppose, Mr. Woodward," the woman was
saying. "Joel was going to bring it up to-night. He would have brought
it over this morning, only he thought it was going to rain and he had
some hay he wanted to get in."

"Yes, I did come for the rent, Mrs. Decker," replied the merchant.
"It's due several days now."

"I have it here-- thirty dollars. Here is the receipt book."

There was the rustle of bills and the scratching of a pen.

"Here you are, Mrs. Decker."

"Thank you, sir. Now we'll be worry free for another month."

"So you are. Nothing like being prompt."

"My husband was going to speak to you about the roof. It leaks
dreadfully."

"Pooh! That can't be. Why, it was patched only two years ago."

"You are wrong, Mr. Woodward. It is four years, and then but very
little was done to it."

"It cost near twelve dollars," growled the merchant. "You can't expect
me to be fixing up the house all the time."

"It leaks very badly."

"Then your husband will have to attend to it. I can't spend any more
money this year."

"I don't know what we'll do. I wish you would just step outside and
look up at the shingles. Nearly all of them are ready to fall off."

I was alarmed by Mrs. Decker's request. Suppose the trio should come
out? I would surely be discovered. But my fears were groundless, as
the next words of Mr. Woodward proved.

"I can't go out now, madam, not now. I haven't time. I have a little
business to transact with this man, and then I must return to
Darbyville."

"I'm sorry--" began the woman.

"So am I; but it cannot be helped. Can I use this room for a while?"

By the look upon Mrs. Decker's face it was plain to see she wanted to
say, "No, you can't," but she hardly dared to speak the words, so she
gave an icy assent and withdrew.

The merchant followed her to the door and saw that it was closed
tightly behind her. Then he strode across the room and faced John
Stumpy.

"Wall, sir, now we'll have an accounting," he began in an
authoritative voice.

"So we will, Woody," returned John Stumpy, in no wise abashed by the
other's manner.

The merchant winced at the use of a nickname, but after an instant's
hesitation passed it over.

"What do you mean by coming to Darbyville, sir, when I have repeatedly
written you to stay away?"

"Oh, come, Woody, don't get on your high horse," was Stumpy's
response, as he swung back in the rocker he occupied. "You know I
never could stand your high-toned ways."

"I flatter myself I am a trifle above common people," returned Mr.
Woodward, and it was plain to see where Duncan got his arrogant
manner.

"Oh, pshaw! don't make me tired," yawned Stumpy. "Come, let's to
business."

"I am at business. Why did you come here?"

"You know well enough. Didn't I write to you?"

"Yes, and got my answer. We've squared up accounts, sir."

"Don't 'sir' me,-- it don't go down," cried Stumpy, angrily. "We
haven't squared up, not by a jugful,-- not till you hand over some
more cash."

"I've handed over enough now."

"No, you hain't. Do you think I'm going to do all your work for
nothing?"

"You were well paid."

"It's only you as thinks so; I don't."

"How much more do you want?"

"A thousand dollars."

The largeness of the demand fairly took away my breath. As for Mr.
Aaron Woodward, he was beside himself.

"A thousand dollars!" he said. "Why, you're crazy, sir."

"No, I ain't; I mean just what I say."

"You expect me to pay you a thousand dollars?"

"Of course I do. I wouldn't ask it if I didn't."

"See here, Fer--"

"Sh!-- John Stumpy, if you please."

"That's so, I forgot. But see here, a thousand dollars! Why, I've
already paid you that."

"So you have. Now I want another thousand and then we'll cry quits."

Mr. Aaron Woodward grew white with rage. "I never heard of such an
outrageous demand," he cried. "I'll never pay it."

"Oh, yes, you will," rejoined the other, coolly. "Aaron Woodward never
yet acted rashly."

"Suppose I refuse to pay?"

"Better not; I'm a bad man when I am aroused."

"I don't fear you. You can do nothing to me."

"Oh, yes, I can. I can tell ugly stories about Mr. Aaron Woodward;
stories concerning his doings when he was collector for Holland &
Mack."

"And who would believe you?" sneered the merchant. "You, a common
tramp--"

"Tramp, am I--" interrupted John Stumpy, with a scowl. "If I am, who
made me so?"

"Your own self and the bottle. Do you think you can hurt me?
Nonsense!"

"I can try."

"And who will believe you, I repeat? A common tramp-- whom the police
are now hunting for, because of a robbery that occurred only last
night."

" 'Tain't so!"

"It is. You broke into the Widow Canby's house and stole over two
hundred dollars."

In spite of the dirt on his face, John Stumpy grew pale.

"Who can prove it?"

"Several people. Carson Strong's son, for one."

Stumpy sprang to his feet. Then almost as suddenly sat down.

"Didn't know he had a son," he said, as carelessly as he could.

"Yes, you did," returned the merchant, flatly. "I think, Fer-- Stumpy,
I know a little more about you than you do about me."

Bitter hatred spread itself over the tramp's face.

"Oh, ho, you do, do you? Well, we'll see. 'Them laughs best as laughs
last.' If you won't pay, I'm off."

He rose to his feet and reached for his hat, Mr. Woodward intercepted
him.

"Where are you going?"

"That's my business. I want you to know I didn't come on all the way
from Chicago for nothing."

"Are you hard up?"

"Yes, I am. I want money, and I'm going to have it."

"How about the two hundred dollars you stole last night?"

Stumpy hesitated.

"Well, if you want to know the truth, I lost the money," he said.

  CHAPTER XIV

 THE PRICE OF SILENCE

For a moment I was staggered by John Stumpy's announcement. Was it
possible he was telling the truth? If so, the chances of recovering
the Widow Canby's money would assume a different shape. To arrest him
would prove a moral satisfaction, but it would not restore the stolen
dollars.

Occupying the position I did, I was more interested in restoring the
stolen money than I was in having the tramp incarcerated.

Nothing would have given me greater satisfaction than to have met the
Widow Canby at the depot with the two hundred odd dollars in my
pocket. It would have silenced the public tongue and made my breaking
jail of no consequence.

But perhaps John Stumpy was telling a falsehood. He was not above such
a thing, and would not hesitate if he thought anything could be gained
thereby. That Mr. Aaron Woodward also guessed such to be a fact was
proven by the words that followed Stumpy's statement.

"Lost the money?" he ejaculated. "Do you expect me to believe you,
sir?"

"It's true."

"Nonsense, sir. Jack Fer--"

"Sh!"

"John Stumpy isn't the one to lose over two hundred dollars!"

"Just what I always said myself, partner, and--"

"Don't 'partner ' me, sir!"

"Well, wasn't we all partners in the good times gone by?"

"No, sir!"

"I reckon we were. Howsomever, let it pass. Well, as I was saying, I
reckoned I'd never lose any money, leasewise a small pile, but that's
what I have done, and that's why I want you to come down."

And John Stumpy leaned back in the rocker in a defiant fashion.

The merchant eyed him sharply in silence for a moment.

"Where did you lose the money?" he asked at length.

"How do I know? If I did, don't you suppose I'd go back and pick it
up?"

"I thought perhaps you were afraid of discovery."

"Humph! I'm not skeered of any such constables as they have in
Darbyville."

"But you must have some idea where you dropped it," went on Mr.
Woodward, and I was astonished to see how coolly this man, who always
pretended to be so straightforward, could inquire about stolen money.

"Not the least," responded John Stumpy. "There was two hundred and
sixty dollars in all. I took out ten and left the rest in the
pocketbook it was in. I've got the ten dollars, and that's all. And
that's why you've got to come down," he went on deliberately. "I'm off
for Chicago to-night, and I'm not going back empty handed."

"You think I ought to pay you for your own carelessness," returned Mr.
Woodward, coolly.

"Not a bit of it. You owe me every cent I ask."

"I don't owe you a penny."

"You owe me a thousand dollars, and for the last time let me tell you,
you've got to pay or take the consequences." And John Stumpy brought
his fist down on the table with a bang.

"Hold on; don't make so much noise," cried Mr. Aaron Woodward in
alarm. "There is no use of rousing the household."

"I don't care. Either you'll come down or I'll rouse the whole of
Darbyville," cried the tramp, vehemently.

"I haven't any money."

"You can't tell me that."

"It's true. Times are getting worse every day."

"Didn't the woman who lives here just pay you?"

"Yes; thirty dollars--"

"And didn't you put the bills in with a big roll in your vest pocket?"
went on Stumpy, triumphantly.

The merchant bit his lip.

"That money is to pay a bill that falls due to-morrow," he replied.

"Well, my 'bill' falls due to-day, and it's got to be met. So come; no
more beating about the bush. We've talked long enough. Now to
business. Do you intend to pay or not?"

The merchant hesitated. Evidently he was afraid to oppose the other
too strongly.

"Well, I don't want to let you go without anything," he began. "I'll
let you have twenty-five dollars--"

John Stumpy jumped up in a passion. "That settles it. I'm done with
you. To-night I'll send a letter to Chris Holtzmann, 897 Sherman
Street, Chicago, and tell him a few things he wants to know, and--"

"You dare!" almost shrieked Mr. Woodward. "Write a single word to him
and I'll-- I'll--"

"So! ho! You're afraid of him, are you?"

"No, I'm not, but what's the use of letting him know anything?"

"Humph! Do you suppose I'd tell him without pay? Not much! I can
easily get him to fork over fifty or a hundred dollars. And he'll make
you pay it back, ten times over."

Mr. Aaron Woodward sank back in a chair without a word. Evidently he
was completely baffled, and knew not which way to turn.

As for myself, I was very much in the dark as to what all this was
about. I was certain the past events spoken of pertained to my
father's affairs, but failed to "make connections."

One thing, however, I did do, and that was to make a note of Mr. Chris
Holtzmann's address. He was the man Stumpy had written to just
previous to the robbery, and he was perhaps one of the persons
concerned in my father's downfall.

"See here," said the merchant at last. "It's too late for us to
quarrel. What good would an exposure to Holtzmann do?"

"Never mind. If you won't come to time, I shall do as I please,"
growled Stumpy.

"But a thousand dollars! I haven't got it in cash."

"You can easily get it."

"Not so easily as you think. Tell you what I will do. I'll give you a
hundred. But you must give up all evidence you have against me."

Stumpy gave a short, contemptuous laugh. "You must think me as green
as grass," he sneered. "I'm not giving up any evidence. I'm holding on
to all I've got and gathering more."

"You have Nicholas Weaver's statement," went on Mr. Woodward, with
interest.

"So I have. Nick told the truth in it, too."

"I would like to see it"

"Of course you would. So would some other people,-- Carson Strong's
boy, for instance."

"Sh!-- not so loud."

"Well, then, don't bring the subject up."

"Have you the statement with you?"

"Maybe I haven't; maybe I have."

"Perhaps it was taken from you," went on Mr. Woodward, curiously.

"What do you know about that?" Stumpy again jumped to his feet.
"You've been talking to that Strong boy," he cried.

"Supposing I have?"

"Well, it didn't do you no good. Say, how much does the young cub
know?"

"He knows too much for the good of either of us," responded the
merchant.

"Sorry he wasn't found in the ruins of that tool house," growled the
tramp, savagely.

This was certainly a fine assertion for me to hear. Yet it was no more
than I would expect from John Stumpy. He was a villain through and
through.

"You meant to burn him up, did you?" asked Mr. Woodward.

"And if I had, Mr. Aaron Woodward would never have shed a tear,"
laughed John Stumpy.

"Let me see the statement."

John Stumpy hesitated. "Hand over the money first, and maybe I will."

"The hundred dollars?"

"No, a thousand."

"Do you suppose I carry so much money with me?"

"Give me what you have in that roll, and I'll take your word for the
rest."

The merchant gave something that sounded very much like a groan.

"Well, I suppose if you insist on it, I must," he said. "I'll give you
what I have, but I won't promise you any more."

"Hand it over," was Stumpy's laconic reply. He probably thought half a
loaf better than no bread, at all.

With a heavy sigh Mr. Woodward drew the roll of bills from his pocket
and began to count them over. I was eager to catch sight of them. I
stood on tiptoe and peered into the window. It was an interesting
scene; the sour look upon the merchant's face; the look of greed in
the tramp's eye. In a moment the counting was finished.

"A hundred and seventy dollars," said Mr. Aaron Woodward. "Here you
are." And he held them out. Stumpy almost snatched them from his hand.

"There, now that's settled," he said. "Now about-- What was that?"

A noise had disturbed him. While absorbed in what the two were doing I
had given an involuntary cough.

"Somebody listening," he declared as he thrust the money into his
pocket.

"We ought to be more careful."

"Only some one coughing in the next room," returned Mr. Woodward.
"Don't get scared."

"I ain't scared, but I don't want other folks to know my business.
Reckon you don't either."

"No, indeed. It's bad enough for me to be seen in your company,"
returned Mr. Aaron Woodward, with just a trace of his former lofty
manner.

"No insinuations, please," was the ready reply. "My hands ain't any
dirtier than yours."

"Well, well, let's stop quarrelling. Let me see the statement."

"Will you promise to hand it back if I do?"

"Why not let me have it?"

"Never mind why. Will you give it back?"

"If you insist on it, you shall have it back," was Mr. Woodward's
final reply, seeing that he could gain nothing by parleying.

Stumpy drew forth the envelope. I anticipated what was coming.

"Here it is," he said, and handed it over, as he supposed.

"The envelope is empty," said Mr. Woodward.

Stumpy looked dumfounded.

  CHAPTER XV

 AN ODD STATEMENT

Before Mr. Woodward made the announcement just recorded he had walked
close up to the window, probably to get into the light, for the sky
was now darkening rapidly, portending the near breaking out of the
storm I have mentioned.

In doing this the merchant's back was turned upon his companion, and
for an instant Stumpy had been unable to see what the other was doing.

When therefore Mr. Woodward declared the envelope to be empty every
action of the tramp indicated that he did not believe the statement.

"Empty?" he cried hoarsely.

"Yes, empty," replied the merchant; "and you knew it," he added.

"No such thing. The statement was inside. Woody, you're trying to play
a sharp game, but it won't work."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"You're trying to rob me."

"Nonsense. I say the envelope was empty."

"And I say it wasn't. Come, hand over my property."

"I tell you, Fer-- Stumpy, I haven't it."

"I don't care what you say. You can't play any such game off on me,"
rejoined John Stumpy, with increasing anger.

"I'm only speaking the truth."

"You ain't. Hand it over, or I'll--"

John Stumpy caught the merchant by the coat collar.

"What would you do?" cried Mr. Woodward in alarm, and it was plain to
see he was a coward at heart.

"I'll choke the life out of you; that's what I'll do. Hand over the
statement."

"I haven't it, upon my honor."

"Your honor? Bah! What does that amount to?"

John Stumpy suddenly shifted his hand from its grasp on the collar to
the merchant's throat. For a moment I thought Mr. Woodward was in
danger of being choked to death.

"Stop! Stop! Se-- search me if you-- you want to," he gasped.

But John Stumpy's passion seemed to have got the better of his reason.
He did not relax his hold in the least.

A short struggle ensued. The two backed up against the table, and
presently a chair was upset. Of course all this made considerable
noise. Yet neither of the men heeded it.

Presently the door from the other room swung open, and the two had
hardly time to separate before a tall, lank farmer entered.

"Hello, what's up?" he asked in a loud, drawling tone.

For an instant neither spoke, evidently not knowing what to say.

"We were-- were-- ahem-- trying to-- to catch a rat," replied Mr.
Woodward, with an effort.

"A rat?"

"Exactly, sir. Had a terrible time with him, Mr. Decker."

The farmer looked surprised. "So I supposed by the row that was going
on," he said. "Curious. I knew there were rats down to the barn, but I
didn't suppose they came up to the house. What became of him?"

"Slipped out of the door just now," put in John Stumpy. "There he
goes!" he added, pointing out into the hall.

Mr. Decker made a spring out of the room.

"I must ketch him, by gopher!" he cried. "There's enough eat up here
now without having the vermin taking a hand in."

Mr. Woodward closed the door after the man.

"Now see to what your actions have brought us," he exclaimed. "If it
hadn't been for my quick wit we'd been in a pretty mess."

"Not my fault," growled John Stumpy. "Why don't you give up the
statement?"

I could not help but feel amused at his persistency. His demands upon
the merchant were about on a footing with those Mr. Woodward had made
upon me.

"If you'll only listen to reason," began the merchant, "I will
prove--"

The rest of his remark was drowned out in a clap of thunder. Somewhat
startled, I looked up at the sky.

The black clouds in the south had rolled up rapidly, until now the
entire horizon was covered. The first burst of thunder was succeeded
directly by several others, and then large drops of rain began to
fall.

The wind blew the drops directly into the window. I crouched down out
of sight, and the next moment Mr. Woodward said:--

"It's raining in the window. We'd better close it up."

Of course directly the window was closed I could hear no longer. I
remained in my position for half a minute or more, and then as the
rain began to pour down rapidly I made a break for better shelter.

I sought the barn. It was a low, rambling structure, with great wide
doors. No one seemed to be around, and I rushed in without ceremony. I
was pretty fairly soaked, but as it was warm I did not mind the
ducking. I shook out my hat and coat and then sat down to think
matters over.

What I had heard had not given me much satisfaction. To be sure, it
had proved beyond a doubt that Mr. Aaron Woodward was a thorough
scoundrel, but of this I had been already satisfied in my own mind.

What was I to do? I had asked myself that question several times, and
now I asked it again.

If only I could get John Stumpy arrested, perhaps it would be possible
to force him to make a confession. But how was this to be done?

While I sat on the edge of a feed box, a form darkened the doorway,
and Farmer Decker appeared.

"Hello!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I took the liberty to come in out of the rain," I replied. "Have you
any objections to my remaining until the shower is over?"

"No, guess not. It's a mighty heavy one. Where're you from? Newville?"

"No, sir, Darbyville."

"Yes? Had quite a robbery down there, I understand."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, a chap named Strong robbed an old woman of nearly five hundred
dollars. Do you know him or the woman?"

"I know the woman quite well," was my reply, and I hoped he would not
question me further.

"They've got him in jail, I believe. The fellow and his sister tried
to make out that a tramp had taken the money, but I understand no one
would listen to the story."

"No?"

"No. It seems this Strong boy's father is in jail now for stealing, so
it ain't strange the boy's a thief."

"But maybe he isn't guilty," I put in, by way of a mild protest.

"Maybe. Of course it's rather tough on him if he isn't. But you can't
tell nowadays; boys is so all-fired high toned, and want to play big
fiddle."

"Some boys are, but not all of them."

"Some of them. Now there's our landlord, who is in the house now, he's
got a son as extravagant as can be, and if it wasn't for Mr. Woodward
keeping him in funds I don't know what that boy might not do. He--
whoa, there, Billy, whoa!"

The last remark was addressed to a horse standing in one of the
stalls. A clap of thunder had set the animal to prancing.

"Your horse feels rather uneasy," I remarked, glad of a chance to
change the subject.

"Allers acts that way when there's a storm going on. Too bad, too, for
I want to hitch him up and take Mr. Woodward and another man that's
with him over to Darbyville."

As Mr. Decker spoke he led the horse from the stall and backed him up
between the shafts of the carriage that stood near the rear of the
barn.

While he was hitching up I set myself to thinking. While I was
perfectly willing that Mr. Woodward should return to Darbyville, I did
not wish to allow John Stumpy out of my sight. Once away, and I might
not be able to lay hands on him.

Had I been sure that Kate had succeeded in finding the lost statement,
I would not have cared, but the chances in her favor were slim, and I
did not wish to run any risks.

"Are you going to drive around to the house for them?" I asked as the
farmer finished the job.

"Guess I'll have to. It will be a beastly drive. Sorry I can't offer
you a seat-- it would be better than walking."

"I think I'll wait till it clears off," I returned. "I'm not on
business, and--"

"Say, Decker, how long is it going to take you to hitch up?"
interrupted a voice from the doorway, and the next instant Mr.
Woodward strode into the barn, followed by John Stumpy.

I did not have time to conceal myself. I tried to step behind a
partition, but before I could do so the merchant's eye was on me.

"Roger Strong!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, sir," I replied, as boldly as I could.

"How did you get here?" he demanded.

"Walked, just as you did."

"Thought you were in jail."

"So do most people."

"Who is this chap?" asked the farmer, staring at me with open eyes.

"It's the boy who was arrested for that robbery last night," explained
the merchant.

"Shoo-- you don't say? And I was talking to him about that very thing.
You rascal, you!"

"How did you get out?" put in John Stumpy.

"None of your business," I replied briskly. "If you'd had your way I'd
been burnt up in the tool house last night."

"No such thing," was the tramp's reply. "Never saw you before."

"You're the fellow who stole the Widow Canby's money."

"You must be crazy, young fellow. I don't know anything about the
Widow Canby or her money."

"I can prove it. My sister can prove it, too."

"Then your sister must be as crazy as yourself."

"Stop there! You're the thief and you know it."

"I know nothing of the kind."

"Your story is nonsensical, Strong," broke in Mr. Woodward. "Gentlemen
like Mr. Stumpy here do not break into people's houses and commit
robberies."

"Gentlemen! He's nothing but a tramp, and you know it."

"Tramp? How dare you?" cried Stumpy, in suddenly assumed dignity, put
on for the farmer's benefit. "I am a ranchero from Texas and an honest
man. I am visiting Mr. Woodward, and know nothing more of the robbery
excepting having heard that it occurred-- ahem!" And John Stumpy drew
himself up.

Under other circumstances I would have laughed at his effrontery. But
the situation was too serious to indulge in any humor.

"Being placed under arrest has turned your head, Strong," said the
merchant. "You seem to be quite out of your mind."

"When was the robbery committed?" put in John Stumpy, suddenly.

"You know well enough," I cried.

"I heard it was about two o'clock in the morning," vouchsafed Farmer
Decker.

"Then I can easily prove an alibi," said the tramp, triumphantly. "I
can prove I was with my esteemed friend Mr. Woodward at that hour.
Isn't it so, Aaron?"

The merchant hesitated. I fairly held my breath to catch his answer.
Would he commit deliberate perjury?

"Quite true," he replied slowly. "Mr. Stumpy was with me last night.
We sat up in the library, smoking, and playing cards until after
midnight, and then I showed him to bed. He could not possibly have
committed the crime of which Strong speaks."

"Then the boy must be the guilty one hisself," said the farmer. "And
so young, too. Who would a-thought it! What shall we do with him, Mr.
Woodward?"

"You had better help me take him back to Darbyville jail," responded
the merchant.

  CHAPTER XVI

 MY UNCLE ENOS

John Stumpy gave a smile of triumph. As for myself, I stood aghast.
Mr. Aaron Woodward had committed deliberate perjury, or at least,
something that amounted to the same thing. He had positively declared
that John Stumpy was at his house at the time of the robbery of Widow
Canby's house, and could not, therefore, be the guilty party.

It was easy to guess that in this statement it was his intention to
screen his partner in iniquity. To be sure, he had been forced to take
the position by Stumpy himself, but once having taken it, I was
morally certain he would not back down.

His action would make it harder than ever for me to clear myself and
bring the tramp to justice. His word in a court of law would carry
more weight than mine or my sister's, and consequently our case would
fall to the ground.

I was glad that Dick Blair could testify concerning my whereabouts and
the scene in the dining room directly after the robbery. The merchant
knew nothing of Blair's presence on the occasion-- at least I imagined
so from his conversation-- and might, by saying too much, "put his
foot in it."

But now my mind was filled with only one thought. The three men
intended to take me to the Darbyville jail. I was to be ignominiously
dragged back to the prison from which I had escaped.

Once again in Ezekiel Booth's custody I was certain he would keep so
strict a guard over me that further breaking away would be out of the
question. Perhaps Judge Penfold would consider me so dangerous a
prisoner as to send me to the county jail for safe keeping, in which
case it would be harder than ever for me to clear myself or see Kate.

For an instant I meditated taking to my legs and running my chances,
but this idea was knocked in the head by Farmer Decker grasping me by
the collar.

"Maybe he might take a notion and run away," he explained. "He did it
once, you say."

"A good idea to hold him," said Mr. Woodward. "Have you finished
hitching up?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you room for him?"

"I might put in another seat."

"Do so. And hurry; the rain has slackened up a bit, and we may reach
Darbyville before it starts again."

The extra seat was soon placed in the carriage. Then the farmer
procured a couple of rubber blankets.

"All ready now," he said. "How shall we sit?"

"You and Mr. Stumpy sit in front. I and the boy will occupy the back
seat. Come, Strong, get in."

For an instant I thought of refusing. The merchant had no right to
order me. But then I reflected that a refusal would do no good, and
might do harm, so without a word I entered the carriage.

The others were not slow to follow. Then Farmer Decker chirruped to
Billy, and we rolled out of the farm yard and down the road.

But little was said on the way. I was busy with my own thoughts, and
so were Mr. Woodward and Stumpy. The farmer asked several questions,
but the merchant said he would learn all he wished to know at the
judge's office, and this quieted him.

About five o'clock in the afternoon we rolled into Darbyville. While
crossing the Pass River the sun had burst through the clouds, and now
all was as bright and fresh as ever.

Judge Penfold's office was situated in the centre of the principal
business block. When we arrived there we found a number of men
standing about the door, no doubt discussing my escape, for they
uttered many exclamations of surprise on seeing me.

Chief among them was Parsons, who looked pale and worried.

"Roger Strong!" he exclaimed. "Where have you been?"

"Took a walk for my health," I replied as lightly as I could, though
my heart was heavy.

"Well, I guess we'll make sure it shan't happen again," he returned.
"Hi, there, Booth! Here's your prisoner come back!"

In a moment the carpenter appeared upon the scene.

"You rascal, you!" he cried in angry tones. "A fine peck of trouble
you've got yourself into!"

"What's all this about?" asked a heavy voice from the stairs, and
Judge Penfold stood before me.

"I have brought your prisoner back, judge," replied Mr. Woodward.

"So I see. Well, Strong, what have you to say for yourself? Do you
know breaking jail is a serious offence?"

"I don't know anything about it. I know I was locked up for nothing at
all, and I escaped at the first chance offered."

"There was no chance offered at all, judge," broke in Booth, fearful
of having a reflection cast upon his character. "He just went and
ripped the hull floor up, that's what he did."

"Silence, Booth! Come upstairs and we will hear the particulars."

In a moment we were in Judge Penfold's office. I was told to take a
seat on a bench, with Booth on one side of me and Parsons on the
other.

Then Mr. Woodward introduced John Stumpy as a friend from San Antonio,
Texas, and the two told their story, corroborated at its end by Farmer
Decker, who trembled from head to foot at the idea of addressing as
high a dignitary as Judge Penfold.

"What have you to say to this, Strong?" I was asked.

In a plain, straightforward way I told my story from beginning to end,
told it in a manner that did not fail to impress nearly every one in
the court-room but the judge and my accusers.

Of course Mr. Woodward and John Stumpy stoutly denied all I said, and
their denial carried the day.

"Until we can have a real trial I will send you back to jail," said
Judge Penfold.

"Why don't you send John Stumpy to jail, too?" I asked. "He is as much
accused as I."

"We have only your word for that."

"Then let me send for my sister Kate and Dick Blair."

Judge Penfold rubbed his chin reflectively.

"I think I'll have to put you under bonds," he said to John Stumpy.

"Why so? The boy's word doesn't amount to anything," put in Mr.
Woodward.

"Only a matter of form, Mr. Woodward. I will make it a thousand
dollars. Will you go his bondsman?"

"Of course he will," said John Stumpy, hastily. "Won't you?"

The merchant winced. "I-- I guess so," he stammered. "But it's a
strange proceeding."

In a few moments, by the aid of two other men, the bond was made out.

"I will make your bail a thousand dollars also," said Judge Penfold,
turning to me. "I suppose it's quite useless though," he added
sarcastically.

"Not quite so useless as you might think," exclaimed a hearty voice
from the rear of the court-room.

I thought I recognized the tones, and turned hastily. There beside my
sister Kate stood my uncle, Enos Moss, of whom I have already spoken.

He was a grizzly bearded sea-captain of seventy, with manner and
speech suggestive of the brine.

Breaking from Parsons and Booth, I ran to meet him. He shook both my
hands and then clapped me on the shoulder.

"Cast up on a lee shore, are you, Roger?" he exclaimed. "And the wind
a-blowing a hurricane."

"Yes, I am," I replied, "and I'm mighty glad you've come, Uncle Enos."

"Just dropped anchor in time," he went on. "Judge Penfold, do you
remember me?"

"You are Carson Strong's brother-in-law, I believe?" replied the
judge.

"You've hit it. Captain Enos Moss, part owner and sailing master of
the Hattie Baker, as trim a craft as ever rounded the Horn. Been away
for three years, and now on shore to stay."

"You're not going on any more voyages?" I queried.

"No, my hearty. I've made enough to keep me, and I'm getting too old
to walk the quarter-deck. Besides, I've heard of your father's
troubles from Kate, and I reckon they need sounding."

"Indeed they do."

"Well, now about your difficulty. A thousand-dollar bond, eh. It's
pretty stiff, but I guess I can stand it."

"Thank you, sir," was all I could say.

"Don't say a word. Didn't your father put in a good word for me when I
was a-courting your aunt that's dead and gone-- God bless her! Indeed,
he did! And I'll stand by you, Roger, no matter how hard the gale
blows."

"Then you don't think I'm guilty?"

"What! a lad with your bearing a thief? Not much. The people in this
village must be asleep-- not to know better'n that?"

"Ahem!" coughed Judge Penfold, sternly. He considered my uncle's
remarks decidedly impertinent. "Are you able to go his bail?" he
asked.

"Reckon I am. I've just deposited ten thousand dollars in the bank
here, and I've got twenty and more in New York. How will you have it--
in cash?"

"A conditional check, certified, will do," replied Judge Penfold,
shortly.

What he meant had to be explained, and then we all went to the
banker's office. My uncle's account was found to be as he had stated,
and about ten minutes later my bond was signed and I was at liberty to
go where I pleased until called upon to appear.

Mr. Aaron Woodward and John Stumpy apparently did not relish the turn
affairs had taken. But I paid no attention to them, and the business
over, I hurried off with my sister and my newly arrived uncle.

"Did you find the statement?" I asked of Kate, as soon as we were out
of hearing of the crowd.

"No, Roger, I looked and looked, but it wasn't anywhere, either at the
tool house or on the way to Judge Penfold's."

"Have you heard from Mrs. Canby yet?"

"Yes, she is coming home."

"Does she blame me for what has happened?"

"She doesn't say."

"Never mind, Roger. We'll stick up for you," put in Uncle Enos,
kindly.

I was considerably disturbed. What if Mrs. Canby should consider me at
fault?

As we drew near to the cottage, I saw a lady standing by the gate,
watching our approach. It was the Widow Canby.

  CHAPTER XVII

 A SUDDEN RESOLVE

My heart beat rapidly as I walked up to the gate. How would the good
lady who had done so much for Kate and myself receive me?

An unkind word or an unfavorable insinuation from her would have hurt
me worse than a thousand from any one else. She had been so generous
that to have her turn would have made me feel as if I had lost my last
friend on earth.

But as she had taken me in before when others had cast me out, so she
now proved the friend in need.

"So they've thought better of it and set you free, Roger?" she said as
I hurried up.

"Yes, Mrs. Canby," I returned. "I hope-- I hope--" I began, and then
came to a full stop.

"What?" and she caught my hand.

"I hope you don't think I had anything to do with the robbery," I
stammered.

"No, Roger, I don't. I think you're an honest boy, and I've got to
have more proof against you than I've heard yet before I'll believe
otherwise."

"Thank you, ma'am, oh, thank you!" I blurted out, and the tears
started to my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.

The events of which I am writing occurred several years ago, but I am
not ashamed of those tears. They were the outcome of long-pent-up
feelings, and I could not hold them back. My sister cried, too, and
the Widow Canby and Uncle Enos looked very much as if they wished to
join in.

"I knew you wouldn't think Roger did it," cried Kate. "I said all
along you wouldn't, though everybody said you would."

"Folks don't appear to know me very well," returned Widow Canby, with
a bit of grim humor in her tone. "I don't always think as others do.
Come into the house and give me full particulars. Who is this man?
Why, really! Captain Moss, I believe?"

"Yes, ma'am, Captain Moss-- Roger's uncle, at your service," replied
he, taking off his cap and bowing low. "I thought you'd remember me.
Your husband as was once sailed to Boston with me."

"Oh, yes, I remember you. Will you come in?"

"Thank you, reckon I will. I have no home now, and hotels is scarce in
Darbyville. I only arrived this noon, and I've been with Kate ever
since. I must hunt up a boarding-house to stay at. Do you know of any
close at hand?"

"Perhaps I do. Let us talk of that later on. I want to hear Roger's
story first."

"Just as you say, ma'am. Only I must get a place to stop at to-night."

"You shall be provided for, Captain Moss. I have a spare room."

"You are very kind to an old sea-dog like myself, Mrs. Canby," said
Uncle Enos.

The widow led the way into the dining room. The lamp was already
lighted, and while my sister Kate busied herself with preparing
supper, Mrs. Canby and my uncle sat down to listen to my story.

For the first time I told it with all the details that concerned
myself,-- how I had been waylaid by the Models, how Dick Blair had
released me, what Stumpy had done at the tool house, and all, not
forgetting about the statement Kate and I wished so much to find.

The Widow Canby and my uncle listened with close attention until I had
finished.

"It's a strange story, Roger," said the widow, at its conclusion. "One
hard to believe. But I know you tell the truth."

"What a rascal this Woodward must be!" broke in my uncle "He's a far
greater villain in his way than this John Stumpy. I am strongly
inclined to figure that you're right, and he is the one that ran your
father up on a lee shore."

"I don't think father did a single thing that was wrong-- that is,
knowingly," I returned. "If he did do wrong, I'm sure Mr. Woodward
made it appear as if it was all right."

"No doubt, no doubt. If you could only get to the bottom of this
Weaver's statement."

"And when is this trial to come off?" put in Mrs. Canby. "Really I
don't see what good it will do me if this man has lost the money."

"I'd like to find that, too," I returned.

Presently Kate announced that supper was ready, and we all sat down.
The widow said that she had found her sister much better, and on
receiving Kate's letter had started for her home at once. The loss of
the money did not disturb her as much as I had anticipated, and as
every one was hungry, the meal passed off tolerably well.

When we had nearly finished there was a knock on the door, and Kate
admitted Mr. Woodward's errand boy. He had a note for me. It contained
but a single sentence:--

"Please call at my house this evening about nine o'clock."

I read the note over with interest, and then informed the others of
what it contained.

"Shall you go?" asked Kate, anxiously.

"I suppose I might."

"Maybe it's a plot," suggested the widow.

"Might waylay you," added Uncle Enos. "A man like him is liable to do
'most anything."